Yet a Man
by L Moonshade
Summary: OneShot. Written more than ten years ago, just after the revolution in Rumania, and the execution of Ceaucescu. DraculaOC


"And, finally, four Securitates were found dead today in four separate alleys, somewhat distant from the fighting in downtown Bucharest. The cause of death in each case has been identified as complete drainage of blood. If anyone has any information, please contact…"

The news report ran through my head clearly as I looked down at the white, drained body that lay before me in an alley somewhat distant from the fighting in downtown Bucharest. He had been a Securitate, to judge by the uniform. I took a couple of pictures for my editor, cursing him out all the time for sending me—a war-phobic journalist—to Bucharest to cover the Rumanian Civil War.

I knelt to get a close-up, raised the camera, then stopped. On the throat, I thought I saw something. I lowered the camera, hoping not to find what I thought I'd seen, but they were there, two small pinpricks. A bloodless body, two small holes piercing the jugular vein, I didn't know what to think. To a person who'd grown up watching movies and reading books about the creatures of the night, the implications were obvious. But those were just stories to frighten children. Weren't they?

I took the pictures then stood and turned to leave, only to find my way blocked by two Securitates, grinning wickedly. I swallowed hard, gripped my camera for comfort.

"So. We find the killer of our brothers."

"No! You don't understand. I found the body here, I…"

"You will tell the judge the truth, yes?" They each took an arm and started to escort me out.

"If you wish to find the killer, look behind you," a strong voice said.

One of the Securitates let go, drawing his gun. I didn't dare look behind me, but I could hear a gun hit the ground. The one still holding me pushed me aside and I stumbled, falling behind some debris, unable to see anything.

A gun fired. The man who'd saved me said something in Rumanian. I couldn't understand the words but the intent was clear; his voice dripped with hate and menace. I hid where I was, afraid to see what was going on. A gun clattered against cement and friendly hands helped me up. I saw two new bodies, even worse than the first; one was lying in a twisted position that could only be possible with a broken back, the other was lying with his skull cracked open, a pool of blood matting his hair. I turned away and the man wrapped his long coat around me and let me shake. I finally pulled back to study the man, found him to be tall, dressed in black. His hair was crisp brown, graying only at the temples and sideburns. His face was stern, but softened by the look of concern he wore. His eyes were brown and deep, one had to be careful not to fall in. Or be swept away.

"You didn't have to kill them."

"That is why I am here." He held up my camera. "I will be taking the film. The last pictures you took may be somewhat incriminating."

"I won't send them to my publisher, then," I said, with every intention of doing so, "but I'm already late. If I have to take more pictures…"

"Ah, promises," he said, weariness in his voice, a great sadness in his eyes. "Promises have been made to me before. Made and broken. Mr. Stoker made a promise and see what he did. See what he wrote, versus what I told him."

I stepped back a few paces, eyes wide. "You're Dracula?"

"That is what some have called me," he said, bowing. "But you may call me Vlad."

"Vlad Tepes. And the Securitates?"

He began rewinding the film. "They were involved in the massacre in Timosoara."

"Which is in what used to be Transylvania."

"I promised my people I would come if ever they needed me. They need me now." He took the film out and gave me back my camera. "And I need your help."

I shifted nervously. "What do you want me to do?"

"The Securitates are looking for me, therefore I must be careful of where I go." He handed me a piece of paper with an address written on it, in English, I noticed. "Go here and ask for Nicolae Tokes. Tell him that the Ceausescus will leave tomorrow night for Boteni. There they will leave the country by helicopter."

"But will he believe me?" I couldn't believe myself, or the fact that I was going along with this. I was here to cover a civil war, not take part in it.

"Show him this," Tepes said, handing me a gold ring. "He will know you as a friend."

I put the ring on my necklace. "All right, then. I guess I may as well help."

"Thank you, Ms. Taylor."

"You know my name, too?"

Tepes smiled slightly. "Ms. Robin Taylor. You are unmarried, 24 years of age, and a reporter for the New York times. You have come close to winning the Pulitzer Prize many times, yet never have. Your work is syndicated in both the United States and Canada and, sometimes, in the United Kingdom. Your home is in Flushing, New York, and you consistently purchase season tickets for the New York Mets."

I was stunned. "How…I mean…Dear God."

"Until we meet again, be careful." He kissed my hand, then melted into the shadows and disappeared into the night. I shuddered, wondering if I hadn't been dreaming. But the three dead Securitates and the ring on my necklace proved it had been real.

It wasn't hard to find Tokes's home, since the road was a main one and the house wasn't far from my hotel. I knocked, was answered in Rumanian.

"Please, I speak little Rumanian. I have a message from Tepes."

The door opened just a crack and I held out the ring. The door opened wider, just enough to let me in, and a man took the ring, a big smile on his face.

"Come in, then, and tell me what Vlad says."

The house was warm and cozy, glowing with a fire that warmed everything. I was glad to be out of the cold night.

"The Ceausescus will leave for Boteni tomorrow night, where they'll take a helicopter out of the country.

Tokes grinned. "This is news indeed! We will be able to capture him, finally."

"I'm glad I could help." I was startled to find that this wasn't exactly a lie. "I should go. Good luck."

"Thank you. And be careful; they may be looking for you."

I didn't have to ask who "they" were. "I will."

I walked back out into the night. The fighting had come closer, the night had turned hot with gunfire, blood, and bullets robbing young men of their lives. I shuddered and picked up my pace. The walk back wasn't the safest I'd ever taken, to say the least. I had to dodge bullets from snipers and the few Securitates I saw wandering around. But, I finally made it to the hotel and to my room.

Someone was there, I could sense that before I even turned on the lights, but I wasn't ready for who it was. The Prince-turned-vampire was sitting in a chair, waiting for me.

"I thought you had to be invited in."

"I convinced the clerk at the front desk to let me in. I wanted to thank you for your help."

"You're welcome. But, if you'd really like to thank me, you could…"

"Give you this?" he asked, tossing me my film. "I hope you will not be too late."

"Not enough to get me fired." I sat down on my bed but remained on guard. I wasn't sure how much I could trust Tepes. "Tell me. Why are you helping the rebels? Ceausescu isn't much worse than you were."

"No, he is not and that is why I am here, perhaps," he sighed. "But what I did, I did to protect my people from the Turks. Those I killed were traitors and spies all, sent by the Turks to undermine my rule."

"And that makes it right?"

"No. No, it does not, even though that time was much bloodier that the one we now share. I am not proud of what I have done and I have many regrets. But, at the time, I could see not other way of accomplishing what I had to."

There was an intense look of pain and loneliness in his eyes and on his face, a look that made ma ache to reach out to him, to comfort him. But, he was the infamous Prince Vlad Tepes and the notorious Count Dracula and a vampire, and those images were too strong, even though, for all he'd done and been, he was still a man. I tried to convince myself that the man needed my comfort, but I couldn't reach out. The monster was within closer reach, no matter how hard I tried to get past it.

"I should leave," he said suddenly, getting up. "You have work to do."

"If you need anything…"

Tepes looked at me with an expression that said I knew what he needed. I sighed sadly.

"I will warn you before I go. The Securitates have not given up on finding you. You must be careful."

"I will. And you."

He smiled slightly and left. Once the door was closed behind him, I developed the film in the make-shift darkroom I'd made in the bathroom. The last two negatives I cut to shreds before I put the pictures into prints.

The next day I was late waking up and it was nearly three in the afternoon before I'd gotten dressed and eaten. Only a couple of hours before dark. I shuddered, not knowing who—or what—would be watching me.

I loaded my camera and left to take some more pictures. I wondered briefly where Tokes was as I passed his house, but that thought led me to think about Tepes, and I didn't want to do that. I shut down my thoughts and walked where my feet took me, looking for pictures to take, but not really paying any attention to where I was going. I didn't come out of my fugue until I nearly tripped over the body. I was in another alley, staring at another blood-drained Securitate. I took a few pictures, but no close-ups of the dead man's throat. As much as I wanted to, my pact with Tepes remained.

"You have an uncanny talent for finding my handiwork."

I turned to see Tepes standing behind me, totally at ease. I wished I felt so calm.

"So it would seem. How many more need to die?"

"He is the last. Unless something happens that forces my hand."

"Like?"

"Securitates attacking me. Or you."

I was stunned. He'd needed my help before, but, now that I'd given it, why should he want to protect me? I started to ask, but never got the chance.

"Down!" he yelled, shoving me aside. A gun fired, the bullets hitting him full in the chest. He seemed not to notice, sneered condescendingly. "You never learn, do you?" he growled.

The Securitate answered in Rumanian, a reply that held some bravado but mostly fear, then fired. The bullets missed Tepes, but bounced off the wall, one hitting me in the leg. I cried out, causing Tepes to turn. He saw me holding my leg, blood dripping from beneath my hand, then turned back to the Securitate, a look of sheer hate on his face. He said nothing, but made short work of our attacker.

"Are you all right, Dear Robin?" he asked me gently.

"It hurts. I'm cold."

He took off his duster and wrapped it around me, then lifted me into his arms. "Nicolae can help. It isn't a serious wound; you will be fine."

"Why are you helping me so much?"

"You do not know? You cannot guess?" he asked, a note of tenderness and love in his voice. I fell silent to ponder his remark—and how I felt about it—but fell asleep instead.

The sleep was an uneasy one. I woke up in a cold sweat, but in a warm room, lying on a sofa in Tokes' home, Vlad's coat covering me. Tokes was sitting on the floor next to me and smiled when he saw me open my eyes.

"You are feeling better?"

"Much, thank you. My leg's still a little sore, but not nearly as bad as it was."

"Good. I am studying to be a doctor and was able to help. The bullet did not break or tear anything, but you may need a cane for three, four days at most. Not long. You will also have to change the bandages once a day. In one week, the stitches must come out."

"I'm glad it's not bad. Thank you."

"For a friend of Vlad's, anything. I will bring you food, then you may go. So I may go."

"To Boteni?"

He nodded. "We have many people to surround the helicopter, so it will not be able to leave the ground."

"That's a good plan. What will you do once you've got him?"

"We will put him on trial."

"Will it be a fair one?"

"Of course! But, after the trial, we will execute him."

In spite of myself, I smiled. I could understand, why they'd want to, after seeing the state of the Rumanian people first hand. I just hoped he truly deserved it. In the days ahead, the whole world would find out he did.

Tokes brought me a good meal and we talked about politics, music, the differences of customs between Rumania and the US, everything. Except Vlad.

"Here is a cane for you to use and keep. As a memento."

He handed me an ornately carved cane which I took. "Thank you."

"And this. I think he meant for you to have it," Tokes said, handing me Vlad's ring. I sighted sadly as I put it back on my necklace.

"A piece of advice, if I may?" He didn't wait for an answer before he went on. "Vlad's castle is near the Borgo Pass. It is easy to reach; you can hire a peasant to take you there. Now, they do not fear it quite so much."

"Thank you, but I'm going home tomorrow."

"You must do what you think is right," he said in a tone of voice that told me exactly what he thought was right.

We bid each other goodbye and good luck and I went back to my hotel, still wearing Vlad's coat. Once in my room, I hung it up on the back of the door, put his ring on the stand next to my bed, then collapsed. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke up sometime during the night. The first thing I saw was Vlad's coat and my heart leapt, until I remembered why it was there. I rolled over to go back to sleep and his ring caught my eye. I looked at it, thinking over everything that had happened, until I finally fell asleep.

"You will walk to the castle," Mikhail told me. Tokes had been right; it hadn't been hard to find someone to take me to the castle, though they still wouldn't take one up to the door. I got off the cart and gathered my things.

"You sure you safe?" Mikhail asked.

I nodded. "I'm sure."

"The wolves?"

"I'll be fine."

He shrugged as if saying it was my funeral, but didn't argue, especially when I have him a good tip. It was a beautiful night, if a bit chilly, but the sky was clear and the moon full. I wasn't standing there for long before a tall figure, flanked by half a dozen wolves, made its way down the hill to help me with my bags.

A/N: Yes, for anyone who's as much a geek as I am, I know that Vlad Tepes ruled Wallachia, not Transylvania. But, Timosoara is in what used to be Transylvania, and the legend that Vlad would return was just too good a connection to pass up. Tokes is also real; he was one of the major players in the revolution. I did my research!


End file.
